Dinner on the third night was a quiet affair. Darren and Lyanna arrived late, and the waiter brought my tea without being asked. As the meal progressed, I excused myself, needing a moment to clear my head. The hallway was dim, and as I walked back, I noticed a young waitress standing near the service cart. She was folding napkins, but her eyes, sharp and worried, were fixed on Lyanna. When I passed her, she looked directly at me, her lips pressed into a thin, determined line.